


Makes two of us

by TwistedNym



Series: Some of us die young [9]
Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-22 02:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14298726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedNym/pseuds/TwistedNym
Summary: He wanders through the city. Nothing has changed. But everything is different. It seems pretty senseless. Not like people are wrong. He doesn't even care. Maybe he'll just die in the cold anyway. You do deserve it, a part of him assures him.





	Makes two of us

_Alternative title: Thomas pisses everyone off, Maven tries to care and Cal gets tired of their shit_

* * *

The fact christmas is around the corner and Thomas has no family to celebrate with while everyone is happy lovely dovey makes him even more insufferable and cranky.

He's like an old man yelling at kids to get off his lawn.

He can't concentrate on anything. Even when he does something he usually likes it turns out wrong. The lines on the paper look wonky and wrong. He rips the paper off and throws it at the trash can, missing. The paper mocks him from the ground but he doesn't want to get up. Instead he watches Maven swing around on his chair and take care of it.

"Who even invented stupid holidays. "he mutters.

"You know I would offer to invite you. If I was not sure that would end in an disaster."

"Yeah, " Thomas mocks to cloak his hurt. " Imagine me under your christmas tree. Chilling with your mother."

A shiver creeps up his spine. The incredulous thought wrinkles Maven's brow.

"Or," Maven offers after a while of silence, sitting next to him on the bed." Talk to your family."

Thomas pulls himself up slowly by the headrest of the bed. Then he leans over and kisses Maven's nose. It's the most gentle thing he can offer, hoping to make it count.

"No."

"I don't want you to spend the holidays in the gutter," Maven whispers. "It's getting colder. You still don't have a home."

"You're my home, pretty boy." Thomas exclaims, and though there's still too much left unsaid or shouted about, it's almost an honest answer by now.

"I can't keep you warm and dry, Thomas."

"I mean, " Thomas pulls him down with him. That's probably how things will end, Thomas thinks dreaded. One of us always pulls the other down with him. He doesn't want to think about it now. "You could try."

Maven breathes out, leaning against him. There's that little shaking smile and Thomas tries to absorb and preserve it.

The topic stays touchy between them. There's an insistence behind that isn't to Thomas liking at all. Like a cobble stuck in his boot, unnerving him.

One day it pops up again. The air is cold and clear when they walk along the road. There's not much traffic, and no one bothers for them, just two boys strolling along. Maven has that overclocked computer look again and Thomas spider senses tingle in danger. For a while none of them say a word, just feet walking along fading grey sunshine, retreating slowly to get the night life and the city awake in brighter lights.

"Thomas ," Maven finally says. And he sounds very neutral. Like he's about to go to business instead of friendly banter. " Remember when you said you missed your sister?"

"Eh, yeah, I say that sometimes." Thomas shrugs. People do say stuff like that. He hasn't given it much thought. Tried to block it out.

Mavens hands disappear in his pockets. "I might have talked to her."

Thomas stares at him in a daze. "You what?!"

Maven doesn't look at him, shoulders drawn up." I was really unsure but you seemed very upset."

"Oh no." Thomas glares at him. " No no. You did not."

"Your sister is a very patient person, by the way, and I said I was a friend of yours and that you talked about your family often. And she was very nice even though she never met me. She asked if you wanted to see her." He offers the words like they are a grocery list. Thomas stops dead in his tracks.

"That's crossing every border you ever set up, you know that?"

"I just wanted to help."

"That's not helping! That's the opposite of letting go and help!" Thomas makes a fist and digs his nails into his palm. "Dude, it's really great you try . But you took control of my situation and hijacked it like a freaking plane. I don't want to see her."

"You're my only friend, Thomas. I don't want to see you this way. I like you."

There' s the hurt again, bottled and lined up, ready to go. Thomas scoffs softly. "OH, you like me, well that's awesome."

"That's not-" Maven looks like he regrets even standing next to Thomas. "You know I care. I wouldn't have gone to your sister if I didn't. You're -"

"See, that's what I mean. I don't want to be just your best friend. You're not taking me serious. We haven't kissed for how long and you didn't even try to touch me. I never ever tried to be too much because I know it's hard for you. And I am telling myself it's ok, but it's really not, because I love you, and it fucking hurts."

The colour has vanished from Maven's face.

"There I said it. Not like you didn't know."

Thomas just wants to bolt. Instead he stands there and listens. "You're the best thing that has ever come out of one of my... meltdowns." Maven says it so careful as if has to taste the words before they hit Thomas face. "But-"

Thomas tries to breath even and steady as the pain crawls along his heart and makes it cramp together in pain. "No, no, I don't want to hear it. I know you don't feel the same."

He's almost shocked by the way Maven holds him back by the arm. There's anger and confusion in the thin line of Maven's mouth.

Something in Thomas snaps at it, a broken branch, finally severed from the rest, not able to hold the weight anymore.

"I'm leaving. Seriously. Fuck all of this." he hisses, breaking free and staggering back.

He doesn't notice how close he is to the edge. No one pulls his arm back this time and he steps over the asphalt. The first thing he notice headlights are big yellow cones. They are so close he sees that one has the smallest stain of dirt.

The car stops with screeching brakes.

Thomas staggers back, and when the driver honks he flips him off.

"Thomas." It's small and lost, a single word. Thomas shakes it off and leaves.

Without another look back, he runs.

"Want to be my imaginary date? "He asks when Farley opens the door.  
But it isn't Farley at all.  
"Only if you put a ring on my finger," Shade says, holding a half eaten burger.  
Thomas is stuck somewhere between feeling miserable and wanting to laugh. Cry laughing, is that a thing?  
He just makes a noise that sounds like a drowning cat and hugs Shade.  
"Alright. Now it's definitely a ring." His hand pats Thomas' shoulder. He takes a deep breath before he lets go of poor clueless Shade.  
"Dude give me that burger," Thomas stares longingly at the food as if it can magically seal the hole in his chest. "And I buy you ten rings. Diamonds and shit. We make it official."

"You must be really desperate if you want something that was in my mouth."  
"Desperate is an understatement. Just gimme that." Thomas huffs. Then he grabs the burger and steps in.

Farley sits on her couch and when she sees Thomas she just moves, making some space. He sits down and stares at the old TV, blaring in full volume.

"This is about a guy," he says.  
"You've been dating a guy?" Shade asks to his right.  
"Yeah, pal, " Thomas snorts, eyes glued to the meaningless moving images on the screen. Farley has turned the volume down by now, just watching with her keen eyes. "hate to break it to you, I'm pretty sure I am into that."  
"Oh please, I knew you were gay since the day we met."  
Now Thomas looks over. "You what?"  
"Yeah," Shade shrugs it off. "I was just asking because you don't date. You are talking and flirting and in the end, you run off."

"Running is kind of my thing, yes, but-" Thomas tilts his head, stumbling over his words. "What does that mean? Since the day we met? How?"

Shade chews on a handful of fries before he answers. "For starters, you were flirting with me."

"I wasn't- no wait I totally was." Thomas reaches over and grabs the fries himself. "OH my god." He speaks with his mouth full, muffled. "Am I like that with everyone? No wonder he doesn't take me serious."

"This isn't about anyone but yourself. " Farley says, the only one not eating noisy and clearly eyeing the way the fries disappear quickly into the void of their stomachs.

"Why do I have the feeling you'll tell me It's all my fault, mom?"

"Thomas your life is out of control." She doesn't take shit from anyone. Her words cut in his skin.

When he's looking over he realizes he can't expect support from Shade. "She's not wrong."

He's pressed in a sandwich of accusations.

"I thought we are friends." He says, feeling like a cornered animal. "Seems you just wanna give me shit too. Thanks."

"I am not coddling you." Farley's eyes are hard in the flickering lights. "You are an unemployed, homeless teenager."

"Yeah and you're hunting dreams of a better life." He snorts, getting up. "As if there's ever going to be equality and stuff. You are hypocrites and borderline criminals. Not some flashy rebellion. This empire "he makes a frantic gesture with his hands. "does not have a death star."

He doesn't want another discussion. He hears Shade, but he doesn't wait. For the second day he just wanders off, ignoring everything around him.

A week later it has started to snow. It clogs the streets, turns everything into a slippery ice cold hell.

The concrete walls are tainted with frost. The water has frozen into dangerous pools . It's pretty to look at when you're inside a warm house. Not so much when you freeze. And oh does he freeze. He's never felt a cold like this before. It's hostile, and the snowflakes are mocking him, kissing his skin in a soft flutter.

He wanders through the city. Nothing has changed. But everything is different.

It seems pretty senseless. Not like people are wrong.

He doesn't even care. Maybe he'll just die in the cold anyway.

You do deserve it, a part of him assures him.

One night he gets caught up in a fight. He's never been a particularly good fighter but boy do they get him down. He's left alone in an alley, without his bag, without his coat , and barely alive.

For a while he just lies on the ground. When he finally gets up he doesn't even know where to go. He limps through the streets, not feeling alive. But not dead either. His body is a ruin and he's shaking.

The lights are all out and there's no cars in the driveway. The house looks dead and cold. Thomas limps over the grass and sits down on the stones, curling himself together, not able to move any farther.

There's a faint light shining through the glass doors to the kitchen.

After some time has passed, the doors opens, sliding to the side quietly. Thomas shakers so much he can't hold his head up straight.

"What the-" It's Cal's voice. A faint light shines from his hand and throws a t white light at Thomas shivering form. "Thomas?"

Thomas opens his mouth slightly, but no voice comes out.

"You look terrible." Cal sounds genuinely horrified. Thomas can't blame him.

He doesn't move when Cal comes closer, slowly. He's looking like he fell asleep in the couch, tousled hair and crumbled shirt.

"I don't have anywhere to go." Thomas barely whispers through the quivering lips and the mess of his face.

It's speaking for Maven's brother he doesn't even try to ask another question and just extends his arm, pulling Thomas up with ease, practically half dragging him along. "Come on."

Every step is a fight. Thomas can't breath and cannot stop the shaking.

"I'm getting Maven." He says very slow. "Just a moment."

Thomas concentrates hard on the words and a flash of fresh fear and regret accompanies the pain and the hollow dark sensation in his chest.

He sits on the couch, dirty and bloody, staring at nothing, through the ground. Snow melts in a puddle around him.

He can hear their voices. He'd have to be deaf.

"I told you I don't want to see him."

"He's a mess. He needs help."

"I tried to help. He told me to go away."

The shaking is so violent he curls together again, holding his head between his hands.

"Sometimes people don't know what they do, Mavey. Just take care of him."

"I am not good at caring. You should do it. You excel at this."

"I barely know him. He needs a friend. How old are you again?" There's something sharp in the words. If Thomas wasn't close to just giving up, he'd be grateful. " whatever you did, you work it out. Now."

There's the slightest of uncomfortable silences before steps come closer again.

"I'm sorry." Thomas says thinking Cal has come back. There's a pair of warm, pale hands touching his back, very careful.

"Can you walk?" Maven's voice asks.

Thomas sits up slowly.

Maven is dressed in the most faded blue, and he stares down at Thomas in a mixture of helplessness and bewilderment.

For a second Thomas stares just back. Then he buries his face on Maven's stomach and just starts to sob , big hot tears burning in his eyes.

"I ruined your shirt." He mutters, breath hitched and tears blurring his vision. The words are barely understandable. His fingers cling to Maven's waist, clawing into his hoodie. "It's dirty and bloody and I ruined it."

"I never really thought I'd get it back either way." Maven answers, and his hand brushes the softest of patterns over Thomas dirty hair.

He can't stop crying. He tries. He wants to. He can't.

The wailing sobs are the only sound echoing through the house.

It takes an awful lot of time before he can stop. The fabric under his face is wet and dirty. His nose has left the faintest clue of dried blood.

"Can you walk, Thomas?" Maven asks again.

Thomas moves his head in a weak attempt to nod one time up, one time down.

He doesn't expect the arm slinging around his shoulder. It's just as careful as any other motion. Like Thomas is made of glass.

Heaving breaths, a spasm hunting through his spine, he leans into the touch.

They don't talk. At least something good. He doesn't know what Maven would say and he doesn't have to say anything that could possibly fix all this.

Maven drops him on his bed, too soft and clean.

"I'm dirty. I can't-"

"We'll clean up."

Thomas fights the zipper of the dirt smeared jacket like a knight fighting a dragon. He's loosing.

His hands are useless, not following his commands.

Second surprise of the evening, Maven actually decides he can't watch the pity play anymore and helps. He leans over and if Thomas nose was not hurting he'd smell his clean, sharp smell. When the jacket is off, Maven leans further down, sitting in his heels, pulling off Thomas old and battered boots. Dirt stained and destroyed , they are just like himself.

"You probably need a bath."

There's something fighting in his face, before he puts his arm around Thomas again.

In another life time Thomas would have joked about it. About the careful and unsure way Maven is moving, face made of stone, frowning a little to hide something in his eyes. He'd have mocked him relentless.

He would have joked about being undressed or about the way he's just letting him take care of anything. And he would have been very uneasy himself, like the time he slipped out of his shirt. Because his body is far from anything good looking. This could have been embarrassing or maybe it could have been leading to something else. It's just mechanical and nervous, careful and unsure.

Now he just sits in the bathtub and curls together again, hugging his legs, counting bruises and cuts, shaking and almost crying again.

He's just letting it all go by.

The shaking slowly stops when the water rinses over his shoulders and is followed by the touch of a hand. The hand is very calm, but at the same time it is moving unsure.

He follows the motion and sees a rolled up sleeve, a silver bracelet on a wrist.. He remembers the way Maven's legs retreated from the water on the pool, toes twitching.

The water warms his body but inside he doesn't feel anything except hollow pain and sadness.

For a while he just watches the hand and sits very still. The water is dark by now, cleansing the dirt and the smell of blood and smoke from his skin. It can't take it out off his head.

"I am sorry." Thomas whispers. "I shouldn't have flipped my shit."

"We talk about it tomorrow. "Maven let's out a small huff, smoothing over Thomas wet hair.

The meaning behind it seeps through the hollow pain. "I can stay?"

The silver bracelet glimmers in the white light of the bathroom. The hand splashes through the water helplessly for a second. "I guess so."

There's the stinging tears again. This time he can't hold them back and cries again. This time Maven isn't trying to soothe him and Thomas just hugs his legs harder, glad for it. One more frail touch and he's never going to be himself again.

By the time he's dressed in something warm ,his face is a stinging sensation, patched up clumsily, his body almost accepts his reign again.

He's on one side of the bed, pressing himself against the mattress , hiding under the blanket.

The other side is empty.

Maven has taken the farthest spot in his room at his desk. The lights are dim and everything is wrong. Thomas forces himself to get up, leaning against the headrest.

"I can sleep on the floor."

"Don't be ridiculous. It's big enough for both of us."

Thomas tries to smile, but his mouth just tugs into a pathetic grimace. "And why are you sitting there?"

Maven presses the heel of his hand under his eye and takes a deep breath.

As always, Thomas can't wait.

"I really should...I don't know." He sighs, watching the slightest of cracks in a tired face." I just wanted-"

"Thomas," the voice is small and lost and it makes him stop. "I'm scared. That's all. I'm just a coward."

"Makes two of us." Thomas pats the side of the pillow. "Let's catch some sleep, you're right, we can talk it out tomorrow."

The first few breaths in the dark are strange, and Thomas feels under water again.

He can feel the tension in his muscles when Maven turns around. The bed could be twenty miles bigger. It wouldn't make a difference.

Somehow the fatigue catches up and he falls asleep. He only wakes up because something presses against a few of the bad bruises on his back.

He cranes his neck, blinking tired and confused. Maven has rolled around and his head has settled on Thomas neck, arms brushing against the bruises along his ribs and spine.

He ignores the pain for now and just lets it be.


End file.
